


Wind Chimes

by Corvueros



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Reader-Insert, we heal our trauma through fanfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-14 08:08:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29167803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corvueros/pseuds/Corvueros
Summary: Home has always been but a fleeting pipe dream to you, but Din wants you to understand it isn’t as far off as you believe.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Reader, The Mandalorian/Reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 55





	Wind Chimes

“Your home, the covert, what was it like?” You had asked him one night, the _Crest_ creaked and moaned in the vast silence of space, leaving the two of you the only ones awake for light-years. 

You could feel his honeyed breath on your collarbones and the gentle flutter of his eyelashes, fingers lightly tracing his back as his chest rose and fell against yours, “Dark, crowded.” He answered honestly, “A bit damp actually.”

He never divulged much about the covert, simply being so used to not speaking about it all, he’d forgotten some of the warmer memories held there. Maybe you’d help him remember and when he does, you’ll be there to listen. 

He feels your smile on the crown of his head.

“Is that it?” 

He shook his head, burrowing deeper into your scent as he thought about it. The covert was dark, so little outside light truly reached into the depths of the tunnels. But somehow, it’s the place he goes when he can’t sleep at night. Somewhere familiar and warm. 

“There were these fireplaces, carved into some of the rooms.” He spoke after a moment, he could almost feel the prickling dry heat on his hands if he imagined hard enough, “I had one, all stone and ash. I’d fall asleep in front of it in the winter. Sometimes Paz and the others would nap there before leaving.”

You hummed, nails tracing his scalp and smoothing the hair out of his face. He never found that type of warmth outside to covert. It didn’t bother him as much as it used to since you came, the days spent wishing for the warmth of a fire dwindled when you burned just as hot on those cold nights. 

“What about your home?” he asked softly, mouthing gently at the skin of your chest. You’d told him much about your home, your life before meeting him which you spun into riveting tall tales that he never grew tired of. Story-telling was your gift, a gift you claimed was passed down from your mother and her mother before her. Din could imagine all the places you’d been and even told you about his own adventures. You were always a rapt listener and he grew more comfortable, spinning stories like you did until your bellies ached with laugher. A laugher the _Crest_ never knew before you.

You seem to think about it for a moment, fingers pausing their ministrations as you ponder.

“Lots of dense forests, abundant gardens with food for the people over every night for dinner,” You muse, a wistful tone that made Din’s heartache, and he could almost see it in his mind. You’d told him about your quiet forest planet, how you could hear the birds and the little mushroom circles in your garden. It filled him with such warmth because it was so innately you. Sometimes, he can smell the forest and its soil on you even after months in space. 

“Everything had a familiar stillness in the forest,” Din could listen to you talk for hours, the cadence of your voice lulling him into a place only you could give him, “but never silent like space, always some animal rustling around in the bushes or the wind playing with the wind chimes.” 

“Wind Chimes?” His lips brush against your skin as he speaks words into your skin. 

‘We had a whole bunch strung up on the porch,” You hum, “they all had a different sound, but you could always hear them, even deep into the woods. Mom always told me to never wander so far that I couldn’t hear the windchimes anymore.” he knew from the sound of your voice that you had that far-away look in your eyes. 

“I’ve never heard one before.” He admitted drowsily, sleep whispering on the edge of his consciousness as he sunk into your warmth.

You hummed, Din could feel the vibration in your chest, “They sound a bit like…bells?” He can see your scrunched nose in his mind, “Like a soft ringing, does that make sense?” 

Din drifted off the sleep that night and dreamt about a lush forest and the sound of wind chimes he’d never heard before. 

—–

Din remembered that night mid-step in the marketplace and he came to a stop, arms full of food and blankets. It was late, the last of the sun just having scooped below the ridgeline, leaving the sellers to pull out their lanterns before the last of the light left. He didn’t understand why he’d remember it now until he heard a light ringing through the air, above the noise of the market. Your bright eyes flashed in his mind and before he could talk himself out of it, he took off around the corner in search of them. 

The further along he goes, the clearer the sound becomes. It’s getting late, he knows he should finish up and make his way back to the little cottage you’d settled him and his son into. By now, the kid was probably tucked against your chest as you read something on your holopad, dozing peacefully. 

The whole thing felt like a dream and he wouldn’t believe he’d get to come home every night to it but it was missing one thing-

The stall was packed between two others, selling silks and stained glass lanterns. Massive wooden chimes hung from the rafters, and smaller ones hung up with nails. The older humanoid smiles at him as he approaches, but says nothing more when Din comes to a stop in front of his wares. 

The light breeze blowing through the market was just enough for the chimes to release their sweet sounds into the air. The sounds rushed around him, the breeze seemed to carry your perfume. They sounded just as you said they would.

There was one hanging to his right, in the front. It was smaller than the big wooden ones next to it, and it would look perfect hanging from the wooden beams on your porch. Brushing his fingers over it, the delicate metal singing for him and it almost sounded like how he hears your laughter. 

“How much?” He asks the vendor, tilting his head to see the man’s kind smile and knotted hands. 

“Sixty credits,” he says, voice as old as the trees. Din handed over the credits without another thought, the price was steep but worth the craftsman’s ship, he could tell the old man made it himself. 

Besides, you would love it. Something you bring with you on your travels. 

The man reached up with a cane and brought the chime down, wrapping it in a fine fabric to dull the noise of metal on metal. 

“May I ask the occasion?” The man spoke as he wrapped, hands looking like petrified wood. When he looked up, Din felt as if the man could see past the visor, beady eyes filled with harmless curiosity. 

“It’s a gift,” he answers honestly, “a gift for my wife.” 

A peaceful, serene smile spread across his face, “what a precious thing.” he sounded like he was talking more to himself than Din. But Din nodded anyway because you _were_ a precious thing.

He handed the bundle to Din and he took it under his arm, nodding his thanks. The melodic sounds of the chimes followed him all the way through the market. 

It was long after nightfall before Din returned, the price of staying far away from the city to avoid any attention. The house was quiet and you didn’t come out to meet him upon hearing his footsteps on the creaky wooden boards. The fire had been tamed, burning coals throughout the night to keep the little one warm. Silently, he pushed all the food into storage and piled the blankets in the reading chair you had claimed as your own. 

But before by chance you wake up, he slipped outside one last time before locking up. It was a warm, dry night with very little breeze. He delicately hung the fine twine on the splintering wood. It glittered and shimmered, bathed in blue light streaming in through the tree coverage. Something settled in Din’s gut, warm and pleasant, something solid and weighted. Even if he knows this place isn’t permanent and they would have to leave again soon but they would have this. A promise. A promise and a reminder to him that this feeling is home, you and his child are home. He wanted you to share with him this feeling of safety and a place for you to call home, a place for you to return to and rest your weary head. 

Returning to the warmth inside, he locked the door but turned to push open the window. Just a bit, but maybe you’d hear the windchimes from the bedroom if the wind blew past. 

With everything locked and secure, he made his way over to the fireplace, stoking it gently before placing another log on top of the coals. His hands went to his gloves, then reached up to pull his head out of the helmet. Slowly, he removed pieces of his armor and made his way to the bedroom. The door was ajar and he silently pushed it open, the light from the fire casting the room in a dim, warm glow. 

He found you sound asleep, a book in your hands, and your son curled up on your chest. 

_What a precious thing, indeed._

He stepped silently beside the bed, carefully taking the book from your hands and setting it on the bedside table. The little one was squatted on your chest like a frog, big ears drooping with his little hand fisted in your shirt, drooling the biggest puddle right on you in his peaceful slumber. It was a tender sight, one he wanted to remember forever in vivid color. 

He carefully picked up the sleeping babe and laid his heavy head on Din’s shoulder. It was amazing that so much drool could come from such a small little thing. Bean hardly even twitched, simply melting into the warmth radiating off of his father in delight, murmuring softly in his sleep. 

Din quietly padded out of the room and into the living space, Grogu’s crib being in the warmest room in the house. Instead of putting him down the rest in the plush bed, Din gently swayed with him just a bit longer. Just a little longer, missing the smell of his child and wanting to savor every moment he could hold him close like this. 

The soft melody of the wind chimes floated in through the window. And for a moment, Din imagined himself on your homeworld. In the middle of that big forest with its stone path and singing chimes, with you making tea every night and reading to him until he falls asleep like his son. 

The wind dies and so does the singing as Din places the baby in his crib, carefully draping his favorite worn blanket over him and rubbing circles into his soft ears. 

His big ears twitched in his sleep like he was hearing the chimes in his sleep and reacting. Din knew he’d love them when he listened to them in the morning, a wonderful feeling warmed his chest as he thinks about how his son will grow up surrounded by the most lovely melodies, just like you.

—-

You don’t know what woke you. You didn’t even realize you fell asleep in the first place, but there is a firm weight around your waist and a warm chest against your back. You relaxed back into his arms with a pleasant sigh, ready to let sleep seep into your limbs with Din safely curled up beside you. Until you heard it again. 

A soft, gentle song rang throughout the small cottage like a gentle whisper. A ghost from days gone by. You had pulled yourself into a sitting position, looking out the open bedroom door with wide eyes. You thought you had dreamed it, as you had so often before. Your eyes slipped closed as the wind picked up outside and the chimes grew more frequent in their delicate hymn. You had thought this feeling was long dead, it was like you had returned home after all these years. And maybe you have-

You don’t feel the tears trailing down your cheeks until they are wiped away by warm palms. 

Your tender beast, you smile down at him in the dark as he gathers your face into his hands. Pale light washes his face with dark blues, his eyes glittered like yours and he brought his forehead up to meet yours. 

As soon as he was within reach, you pressed your lips into his, a silent thank you as he tethered himself to you. You whisper worship to him, thanking him for coming home to you, and thanking him endlessly for finding his way to you. 

“Do you like it?” He whispers back to you, thumbs brushing against your temple soothingly. 

“Yes, yes- thank you.” You breathed, sounding just as wet and teary as you thought you would, “ _Thank you.”_

There would be another cottage, another ship even and enough Inns to last you a lifetime before he can give you the home he pictures for the both of you. One with your bonfires and folk tales, a fireplace and wood to last you all winter. And another wind chime, just to see the way you smiled when listening to it again every night before falling asleep.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Wind Chimes by Corvueros](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29851221) by [HiJustBrowsingThanks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HiJustBrowsingThanks/pseuds/HiJustBrowsingThanks)




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